Key Service

KEY SERVICE

  by Rik Hunik

  Copyright 2013 by Rik Hunik

  A slightly shorter version of this story appeared in Wild Violet, Vol. 6, #2, Summer 2007

  Chapter 1

  "Where are they?" Robert Jarvis muttered as he felt around in the right-hand pocket of his pants and found no keys. It was time to leave for work but he had locked himself out often enough that he was conditioned to make sure he had his keys before stepping out of his apartment.

  He checked all his other pockets, including those in his suit coat, then all the pockets in every coat in his closet. He looked on the bookshelf in the hallway, on the coffee table, in the dining room, on the kitchen counter and the fridge, on the night table by his bed, in the bathroom by the sink, and even in the dirty laundry hamper.

  Flustered, but not yet angry, he stood and pondered. After work yesterday he had driven home and let himself in. From there his girlfriend, Marna, had picked him up for dinner, dancing, and drinking. He couldn't remember coming home. He could have lost his keys anywhere last night. He shrugged and headed for his desk to grab his spare set.

  The doorbell rang.

  Jarvis stopped short. Nobody ever called on him before he went to work.

  When he opened the door he found a man less than four feet tall, dressed in bluish-gray coveralls, with a matching baseball cap pulled right down over his ears. A white patch on the front pocket, bordered in red, proclaimed with red-stitched lettering, "KEY SERVICE." The short man held up his hand. "Your keys, Mr. Jarvis." His voice had a lilting accent and his features had an unplacable foreign slant.

  "Uh, thanks." Mechanically, Jarvis reached out and took the proffered keys. "Where did you find them?"

  "Under the seat of your girlfriend's car." He held out his hand again, palm up. "That will be one dollar." He was polite but not friendly, there was no hint of a smile.

  "Right." Jarvis dug out a loonie, handed it over. The coin disappeared into a pocket and the short man turned and walked away.

  That was different, Jarvis thought as he locked his apartment. Fast service, but not with a smile. He glanced at his watch. He could still make it to work on time. He hooked his forefinger into the key ring and spun the keys around as he headed down to his car.

  Just last week, amidst his correspondence and other junk mail, he had received his annual envelope containing two small, plastic, numbered tags, admonishing the finder to call a 1-800 number or deposit the attached keys in any mailbox. He had put one on his key ring, dropped the other in his desk drawer with his spare keys, then tossed the rest of the contents into the trash.

  He knew their little spiel by heart. The only part he cared about was the statement, "No payment necessary." The service had proved to be handy for him. Sure he lost his keys a few times every year but, if they were willing to return them for free, let them be chumps. He hadn't paid them a cent in going on ten years.

  Except for that dollar he had paid today.

  Chapter 2

  Selling insurance wasn't exciting work but it kept him busy all morning, too busy to think about keys until after lunch. He was walking back to the office when he slapped his pocket and didn't feel the familiar lump. He had put his keys on the restaurant table when he dug out change for a tip.

  "Go ahead without me, Carl. I left my keys behind."

  "Again?" Carl laughed and kept walking.

  Jarvis spun around. Wendy, the waitress, would probably have them waiting for him when he got there, just as she had the last time, and the time before.

  Before he could take two steps he had to stop to avoid colliding with a dwarf standing directly in his path. The blue uniform and the hat were the same, even the way he wore it down over his ears, but this guy was even shorter than the guy at his apartment door this morning. The keys were the same though. Jarvis took them.

  "That'll be two dollars."

  "Two dollars? It was only one dollar this morning and I never paid anything before that."

  "I know." The dwarf grinned humorlessly. "You better hand over the two dollars now, then read the fine print on your contract." He put one hand on his hip and held out the other, palm up.

  "I could have got them myself this time. It would only have taken a minute."

  "Two dollars."

  Not only did Jarvis not have time to argue with a stubborn dwarf about his keys but he felt acutely self-conscious doing it in the middle of a busy sidewalk. It was only a couple of bucks. He dug out a loonie and four quarters. The dwarf snatched them and disappeared into a forest of legs. Nobody else seemed to notice him.

  Chapter 3

  When he got home after work he checked the trash can by his desk but he had emptied it on the weekend, for the first time in a month. All the "Key Service" literature was gone. He had signed their little card and mailed it without reading it. He was still in the dark as to what he had committed himself to.

  After dinner alone he went to pick up Marna to see a movie. In her third floor apartment he waited while she finished preparing. When she finally came out he liked what he saw but he honestly could not see much improvement. "You look great," he said as he pulled her close and kissed her, squeezing her butt through her black jeans. "We better get going in case they start the movie on time."

  On the street he reached for his car keys and discovered that he didn't have them. "My keys, they're in my jacket."

  "You left your jacket upstairs."

  He nodded. "Just give me your keys and wait here while I run up and grab mine."

  On the first flight of stairs Jarvis ran into another dwarf in blue hat and coveralls. His face, nearly level with Jarvis's, wasn't smiling. "Your keys."

  Jarvis snatched them.

  "Four dollars."

  "What?"

  "Four dollars."

  "I heard you. I just don't believe it." He could see the progression and he didn't like it.

  "Are you refusing to pay?"

  Jarvis got the impression that the guy wanted him to refuse. He thought of Marna waiting outside, of the movie starting without them. "No." He dug out a five-dollar bill and handed it over. "This isn't very fair."

  "You got that right," the dwarf agreed as he gave Jarvis his change.

  "Back already," Marna said as he joined her outside.

  "Yeah." He unlocked the passenger door.

  "You forgot your jacket."

  He circled to the driver's side. "I'm warm enough. Let's go."

  Chapter 4

  For the next few days Jarvis was successful in holding onto his keys. On Friday afternoon, while he was driving into the parking lot under his apartment building, his cell phone rang. He pulled into his slot, picked up his phone and killed the engine. "Hello."

  It was Marna, calling to break their date for tomorrow. Something to do with her mother. "But we can get together Sunday night."

  When arrangements were settled he said good-bye, shut off his phone, got out of his car, shut the door and headed for the stairs. The outer door was locked, of course, which wouldn't have been a problem if he had his keys. Distracted by his conversation with Marna, he had left them in the car. He would have to walk around to the front to get the manager to let him in so he could get his spare set.

  As he turned from the door he almost bumped into yet another dwarf in blue-gray coveralls. His cap was pulled low over his ears. Jarvis's keys dangled from one finger of his outstretched hand.

  With a sigh, Jarvis took his keys and reached for his wallet.

  "Eight dollars."

  Jarvis handed him a ten. "This is extortion, you know? I could have got them myself, without much hassle."

  "Our motto is, 'Never be without your keys again.'" The dwarf grinned and pointed to his hat. "'Service' is our name." He gave Jarvis a tw
oonie.

  "Yeah, right." He picked out the correct key and stuck it in the lock, then stopped and turned around. The dwarf was walking away at an angle. He passed behind a concrete pillar but didn't appear on the far side. When Jarvis went to look behind the pillar there was nothing to see.

  Chapter 5

  With Marna out of the picture, Jarvis went to a party in his friend Wayne's twelfth-floor apartment. Near midnight he decided to leave. Wayne asked, "How are you planning to get home?"

  "I'll drive. It's not far."

  "Distance isn't the question." While Jarvis was concentrating on tying his shoes, Wayne grabbed his jacket and dug Jarvis's key chain out of a pocket.

  "Hey, give them back. My apartment key is on there."

  Wayne backed away, with Jarvis pursuing him, snatching repeatedly at the keys just out of his reach. Wayne tripped on somebody's big foot and his arms flailed as he fought for balance. The keys sailed out of his hand, across the room and out through the sliding glass door. They landed with a clink on the balcony and slid over the edge.

  "Nice move," somebody said with genuine awe.

  Jarvis stood there fuming.

  Wayne, fully vertical again, said, "Sorry man, I didn't mean for that to happen. I'll pay for your cab home and replace your keys first thing tomorrow."

  Jarvis calmed down. "It's okay. I'll find them. They had to fall straight down." He put on his jacket and headed for the exit. "Call me a cab. I'll be right back."

  "Oh yeah, in about half an hour."

  "I'll be back with my keys in less than five minutes."

  Wayne laughed. "Not a chance. If you're back up here in less than ten minutes with your keys I'll give you ten bucks."

  "I'll throw in five."

  "Me too."

  By the time everyone had their say the pot was nearly forty dollars, while Jarvis had nothing to lose. He stood with one hand on the doorknob while somebody with a stopwatch feature on his wristwatch made a big production of, "Ready, steady, go!"

  Followed by cheers and jeers, Jarvis slipped out the door and walked calmly to the elevator. He punched the down button and the elevator opened. "Hey, thanks," Jarvis said as he took the keys from the little guy in the blue-gray coveralls.

  "Sixteen dollars."

  For the first time Jarvis actually smiled while paying. The dwarf directed a puzzled frown at him as the door slid closed between them. Jarvis pushed the elevator button and the door opened right away. The elevator was empty. He shrugged and went back to Wayne's apartment.

  "Where's my cab?" Jarvis held his keys high for all to see.

  "Already?"

  "No way."

  "Pay up everybody." He smugly accepted his money and, when pressed to tell how he had done it, he just shrugged one shoulder and said, "Magic." Of course nobody believed him. He'd made a profit this time but the circumstances were exceptional. The next time he lost his keys it would be expensive. For thirty-two dollars he could get all of his keys duplicated several times.

  When he got home he removed the tag from his key ring and tossed it in the trash.

  Chapter 6

  Two weeks later he had reason to reconsider his action when he had to take a bus home and get the manager to let him in. He had his spare keys duplicated that evening. He wanted to get at least three sets made, but he didn't want the locksmith to think he was nuts so he settled for one. He intended to go elsewhere to get the other sets made but never got around to it.

  But he got to thinking. The keys he carried were copies of copies and they were sticky in the locks. If he lost his spare set while taking them to be copied, he would have to copy the set he carried and they might not work. It sounded a bit paranoid even to him but the idea worried at the back of his mind for days. Finally he broke down and dug the second "Key Service" tag out of his desk drawer and put it on his new set of keys, resolving to keep them with him at all times. Lots of people went for years without losing keys. He could do it too.

  Chapter 7

  His habits changed and he became good at keeping close track of his keys but he was done in by a drinking bout. He had a disagreement with Marna, then ran into an old friend who sympathized with him, and poured beer into him until he felt better.

  He woke in a strange bed, alone, with only a vague memory of how he got there. He found his clothes and washed up. His drinking buddy was gone but there was a note on the table. "Wild night. Help yourself to breakfast. I'll be back for lunch."

  Jarvis's stomach refused the offer of breakfast but his head felt clear enough that he could drive home, but as soon as Jarvis stepped out the door he saw the dwarf in coveralls leaning against the wall. He groaned.

  The dwarf grinned and held out Jarvis's keys. "Dug these out of a storm drain. You must have had a good time last night."

  "If I did I wish I could remember more of it." He took the keys, dropped them in his pocket.

  "That will be thirty-two dollars."

  "Yeah, I know." He pulled out his wallet and discovered that he was broke. He had blown over two hundred dollars last night. He showed the empty billfold to the dwarf. "Do you take credit cards?"

  "Cash only."

  "I don't have any cash on me. I can't pay." Fear reached with bony fingers for his heart.

  "In that case you'll be hearing from the recruiting elf."

  "Elf?" Jarvis wondered aloud.

  "Yeah, elf. What did you think we were? Dwarfs?" He vanished right in front of Jarvis's eyes, silently and completely.

  Jarvis was disinclined to believe in magical creatures but the evidence was right in front of him. And it did explain their diminutive stature and why they pulled their hats down over the tops of their ears.

  Before he could ponder the significance too long a different elf popped into the same place the other elf had just left. He wore the familiar blue-gray but his garment was a business suit and a spiffy derby clung to the top of his head, not hiding his pointy ears. He carried a clipboard. "Robert Jarvis, your account is delinquent."

  "I can get the money. Just let me get to the nearest cash machine."

  The elf looked up at him from under arched eyebrows. "You never did read the contract, did you?"

  Jarvis shook his head, instantly regretting the motion. He leaned on the doorframe until it stopped moving. "So what's it going to cost me, an arm and a leg?"

  The elf smiled thinly and shook his head. "We're not like that other company. You just have to work for us until your debt is paid."

  "What if I refuse?"

  The elf snapped his fingers. The air twinkled for an instant and the elf was as tall as Jarvis. But the elf hadn't grown, Jarvis realized, when he saw the doorknob at his own eye level. "Then you'll be stuck in an elf body until you do deliver the set of keys assigned to you. With the assistance of the company magic it only takes a few minutes of your time."

  Jarvis pushed up his cap and felt his ears. There were long and pointed, with a tuft of hair at the tip. He groaned. In a voice oddly similar to his own he asked, "Why me?"

  "You used the mundane key service for ten years without paying them a dime. In the last three years they returned your keys three times or more each year. Either offense would have been enough to get your file transferred."

  "But I never lost my keys so many times before and half the time I didn't really need help to get them."

  "Okay, so there is some magic involved."

  "Why?"

  "To teach you a lesson."

  Jarvis glared at him.

  "And to generate revenue, of course. To be fair, we do ease off when the fee gets into double digits. We're greedy, not evil."

  Jarvis was unwilling to dispute the distinction at the moment. He massaged his temples, trying to take it all in and sort it out. "I'll sure be glad when my year is up and I won't have to put up with this anymore. And you can bet I won't be signing up again."

  The elf laughed. "Don't worry, you won't need to. Your contract is for three years."

  Ja
rvis groaned again, but he became a "Key Service" elf. He still looked like himself but his features were squashed and stretched so that no one he knew recognized him when he returned their keys.

  About eight months later Jarvis received some free Christmas cards from an association of foot- and mouth painters, just like he did every year at about the same time. He sorted through them, found a few he liked. "This looks like a good one for my mother." He popped it in an envelope and put a stamp on it. He was about to get up when he remembered what that elf had insinuated about that "Other Company." How many of their cards had he sent to his mother over the years?

  Jarvis imagined himself painting Christmas scenes with a paintbrush in his mouth while a fat elf with a white beard stood beside him, shaking his head and holding up a gleaming knife, saying, "That's not good enough. How can you pay for all the cards you used if nobody is buying your work?"

  Jarvis sat down and wrote a sizable check to the foot- and mouth-painters.

  The End

  If you liked this story please take the time to write a short review. Thank you.

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